LIGO Caltech News

- Contributed by Linda Turner

This past month, LIGO said goodbye to one its long-time
employees, Fred Asiri, who is leaving Caltech to pursue
new challenges at Stanford University. Not only will we
miss a valued colleague, but also a friend and master
storyteller. When asked to interview Fred for the LIGO
Newsletter, I was delighted for the chance to sit with
him and hear his reflections on over twelve years of service
to LIGO. Fred's effervescence and sense of humor are contagious,
and both prevailed in his reminiscences. Some stories I
affectionately remembered from after-work LIGO get-togethers,
others I first heard around the table at dinner parties in my
home. Nevertheless, I laughed all over again during this interview
as Fred recounted his hijinx on LIGO, all while providing
exemplary contributions to our LIGO observatories. Here is a
glimpse into life on LIGO with our special friend and colleague,
Fred Asiri.

Can you tell us a bit about your background?

I was born and raised in Iran attending Abadan Institute of
Technology where I earned my B.S.C.E. I immigrated to America
in 1971 and attended U.S.C. where I completed my Masters in
Civil Engineering in 1972. I was employed with Tamcor and
worked in R.M. Parsons where I was involved in the design and
analyses of several buildings: the Panama International
Airport, the Long Beach Children's Hospital, and the geodesic
domes for the NSF at the South Pole. Just prior to coming to
LIGO, I had spent about 15 years with Joy Technologies.

When did you come to LIGO and who interviewed and hired you?

It was 1988 and both Robbie Vogt and Bill Althouse interviewed
and, subsequently, hired me.

What was LIGO like when you first came on board?

It was a small group--five of us in conventional facilities
plus about a dozen in the Science group and half a dozen at MIT.

Where were the LIGO offices initially located? The Engineering Suite?

Suite? No, more like the Engineering Dungeon! Just kidding. I was
in the office that is now Dorothy Lloyd's.

What was your title and job description and were there changes
to them over the years?

When I was hired I was told to pick my own title--that it could
be anything I wanted. So I started with LIGO Civil Engineer.
Over the years it changed, first to Project Civil Construction
Engineer, LIGO Technical Representative for Building and
Infrastructure and, most recently, LIGO Facility Technical Manager.
Now, that last one sounds like a glamorous janitorial type and
that's why I decided I better look for another job!

But my actual job description is getting conventional facilities
built. Actually, I felt like I had a default position that was made
up of everyone's leftovers--all those tasks that didn't fit anyone
else's job description.

Do you have a favorite Hanford memory?

Charlie Peck came to my office to ask about the rough grading status
for the Hanford site. I told him we had selected a contractor who
had been waiting for a few months for a notice to proceed, but no
decision had yet been made. I told Charlie that if the rough grading
wasn't done before springtime, I had learned that there were whitetail
kite birds and if they laid their eggs in the bushes at the Hanford site,
there could be no clearing until the end of the hatching season. So,
Charlie then authorized the blading of the bushes so the birds wouldn't
have a place to lay their eggs. In order to do that, I called an
environmental specialist at Battelle. I told them that since we were
going to blade up all the bushes, make sure someone goes and walks the
site to ensure there are no eggs already laid. An hour later I received
a fax that Battelle had dispatched 12 of their best biologists to go
and survey for eggs. I immediately called to say that the purpose was
to not find any eggs, so send your worst (or hopefully blind) biologists.
Luckily no eggs were found and the contract was awarded.

How about a favorite memory from Livingston?

It was my first trip to the Livingston site and we went to the middle
of the woods to see where the vertex point would be. Someone asked,
"Do you know where north is?" From my Boy Scout years, I looked for
the moss to grow on the north side of the trees, but the whole damn
trunk was covered in moss. Figuring no one else knew, I just pointed
in some direction and confidently stated, "That's north," and everyone
believed me.

On another visit while walking in the woods to accept the staking of
the site, I looked and saw no stakes. When I asked the surveyor where
the stakes were, we realized that all of the stakes had been knocked
out. So, I asked him if he really staked out this area or was he bluffing.
He insisted that someone must have knocked out the stakes. I wondered who
would be crazy enough to knock out stakes in the middle of the woods.
After restaking, lo and behold, some were again knocked out. Who could
it be? Later in the week, while with the surveyor, we saw a cow charging
a stake. Apparently it was the orange color of the flag on the stakes that
was ticking-off the cows. They were the culprits. Needless to say, no more
red or orange flags were used at the Livingston site.

Over the past twelve years, what's the funniest story or memory you have
from LIGO?

Well, as part of my default position, one time I was called into
Bill Althouse's office, in the presence of Rai Weiss and I learned
that in order to remove water vapor pressure in the beam tube, the
tube would have to be baked. So, I asked, what has this to do with
me? Their answer was my assignment: go and find the cheapest way to
insulate the beam tube. Returning to my office, I called the Owen's
Corning Research Lab in Houston, Texas at the end of their day.
Of course I told the man about the project and what we were trying
to find, etc. I then told them I was looking to insulate a tube and
in the cheapest way. When I told him it was a tube 16 kilometers long
and 4 feet in diameter, I suddenly had his attention. He rapidly asked
me several questions: What's inside the tube? Velocity of materials
flowing in the tube? Temperature? Etc. I said, "Wait a minute, there's
nothing inside." "What do you mean nothing?" "Absolutely nothing--empty!"
He called a few guys into his office and said, "Hey, come listen to this
guy. He wants to insulate a 16 kilometer tube full of nothing and doesn't
know how much it's going to cost him." One of the guys in his office asked,
"What's this project all about?" "I don't know, some kind of fu-fu government
project. Sounds like they want to catch gravity waves and look for a black
hole." And from then on it just got more and more hilarious--you see, these
guys didn't realize they hadn't muted the call. I could hear the whole
exchange! He later called back and apologized for making nasty comments.
I said that I was paid to do this and it was indeed a serious project.
The man at Corning felt so sorry for me that he came to Los Angeles and
helped me cost out the insulations for the beam tube.

I'm almost afraid to ask, but what about your most embarrassing moment?

All twelve years! No, really, it was the first time I was called to go
to the Hanford site. I got a fax telling Bert Switzer and I that we
should come to the site with "snake boots." I asked Bert if he'd ever
heard of "snake boots" before. He said he hadn't. Neither of us with
a clue, we went to Sears and told the shoe salesman we wanted to buy
snake boots. Well, he hadn't heard of them either. Returning to work,
we sent a fax back to Hanford and asked them to tell us what a snake boot
was. It turned out to be simply a boot that covers the ankles--and here
we'd been all over town looking for some sort of mysterious "snake boots."

Looking back, what would you consider your greatest challenge?

It would have to be working on such an "earthy" matter with a group of
highly talented "Astro" and "High-Energy" physicists and scientists.

What are you most proud of accomplishing while with LIGO, and what brings
you the greatest sense of satisfaction?

I'm most proud of seeing the building of LIGO. When I visit each site and
remember the original landscape--bug infested, dense woods, rats--and see
the transformation that has occurred, I find tremendous satisfaction in
seeing far-fetched dreams coming to fruition.

Several years ago, when I was new to LIGO, I recall a story about your first
"magnetic" office that left everyone laughing. Can you tell it one last time?

I was in the office that is now Dorothy's office. Greg Hiscott ordered
and installed the first color Sun Microsystem in my office. That was a
novelty in those days. So as I was playing with it, I noticed that every
time I moved the screen, the color shifted. When I told Greg there was
something wrong with the monitor, he agreed. Sun was called and they
replaced the monitor. Again, we started playing with it and the problem
was still there. Greg started knocking around and adjusting the insides
but for no good. I just gave up.

Later, after returning from Edward's Air Force Base, I happened to have
a compass. I laid it on my desk and noticed that the needle "N" was
facing downtown Los Angeles. I started moving the compass around and the
"N" was shifting and the compass was rotating out of whack. At the time,
we thought to call maintenance people to say there was something wrong
with the office having a large magnetic field. Then Mike Zucker came in
and said he wasn't surprised, since the office had been the experimental
pit for Dr. Anderson, the scientist who discovered the positron and the
magnetic field that created the positron. Honestly, this was the first
time I had heard of a positron and I thought Mike was pulling my leg.
"Are you serious?" "Yes, this is why the whole room is magnetized." We
then called Physical Plant and told them of the problem with the magnetic
field.

Well, that day happened to be Halloween. And while I was sitting in my
office, some guy walks in looking like a mummy and he is carrying a large
vacuum cleaner and brooms--totally mechanized, too. "Why are you here,"
I asked. "I'm here to degauss your office." "Here to degauss? I've heard
of ghostbusters but never degaussers!" I thought he was a student playing
a joke on me. So to make a long story short, the guy started degaussing,
working up and down on the walls. There was no effect and so he determined
he couldn't degauss it. He asked if there was anything else he could do
for me. Well, it so happened I was to attend the JPL Halloween party that
evening in Dabney. I asked to borrow his outfit. And wouldn't you know I
won first prize for my costume at the party as a ghostbuster. And that
office is still filled with the ghosts of the positron.

We know you're leaving our project for another one at Stanford. Can you
tell us a little about it?

I'm working for the Next Linear Collider Project as a civil engineer.
My involvement is in the pre-conceptual design of the conventional
building facilities for the project. The concept is to inject electrons
from one end of a 20-mile long beam tube and positrons from the other end.
As they race toward one another they smash right at the center, at a place
called Interaction Hall. And now we are chasing positrons and electrons,
and I'm again haunted by positrons.

It sounds like your new challenges are similar to those of LIGO--working
again with high-energy physicists.

You see, I still haven't learned my lesson!!

On his departure, Fred was given a newly-designed plaque in recognition of
his outstanding service to LIGO.